


Wager

by spinninginfinity



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4095904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinninginfinity/pseuds/spinninginfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Money changes hands among the White House staffers, and Josh is less than happy about it.</p>
<p>
  <i>‘I mean,’ and for a second Josh is so overcome with indignation that he can’t even speak, ‘for crying out loud, aren't we here to run a country? Don't they have more important stuff to do than place bets about their colleagues maybe being a thing?’</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wager

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt on tumblr: "Wanna bet?"

‘I have to tell you something,’ Josh announces, slamming the door to his apartment behind him, ‘and you have to promise to not be too outraged, okay?’

‘Josh,’ Donna says, idly flicking a page of her recipe book as he comes into the kitchen.

‘Yeah?’

‘“Hey, Donna, how was your day?” is a nice way to start a conversation.’ She looks at him over her shoulder, face inscrutable.

He stares at her for a second and then breaks into a smile, crossing the room and turning her to face him fully, trapping her between his body and the counter. ‘Hey.’

‘I’ve missed you,’ she tells him, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips.

‘We saw each other three hours ago.’

‘You didn’t miss me?’

His answering smile is a little dopey, he knows, but he doesn’t mind. ‘Never said that.’ He rubs his hands in slow circles over her shoulder blades and nods at the pan she has on the stove. ‘That smells nice.’

‘It’s a beef ragù.’ 

He peers around her to look at the recipe. ‘It looks complicated. It’s not just a meat, onions, tomatoes job?’

‘We’re being fancy,’ she explains.

‘Cool. How was your day?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, tell me your thing first.’

‘You’re gonna be pissed,’ he warns her.

‘I’ll try to control myself.’

‘Otto told Bram he owes him ten bucks today. You know why?’ 

She opens her mouth to answer, but Josh races on. ‘Because we got together! Otto bet Bram we’d have gotten together by election day and we did!’

‘Yes,’ Donna says. ‘I was there.’

‘I did some digging; it’s not just those guys.’ Josh rests his hands on the counter either side of her, agitatedly drumming his fingers against the wood.

‘Huh.’

‘Lou’s raking it in. Edie.’

‘Oh.’

‘I mean,’ and for a second Josh is so overcome with indignation that he can’t even speak, ‘for crying out loud, aren't we here to run a country? Don't they have more important stuff to do than place bets about their colleagues maybe being a thing?’

‘That is…’ Donna nods her head a few times. ‘So true. Hey, you want salad with dinner?’

There’s a silence.

‘You’re not outraged?’ he asks.

‘Well, you told me not to be outraged.’

‘Not _too_ outraged, I said; you could be a little outraged!’

Donna looks down at the ground for a moment, tight-lipped, then winces at him. ‘Yeah, I can’t really, though,’ she admits. ‘I owe some people some money, but, you know, the terms of all those bets were pretty clear, and I did have quite a lot of control over the whole thing, so it’s only fair that I—’

The look on Josh’s face is one of sheer betrayal. ‘Hold on—you’re in on this?’ 

‘Josh,’ she says patiently, rubbing her thumb across the hair at the nape of his neck. ‘How are you _not_ in on this?’

‘Who do you owe money to?’ he demands.

‘Uh…’ She thinks about it. ‘Annabeth, Toby, my sister—’

‘ _What_?’

‘I am standing a foot away from you,’ she points out.

‘Sorry. _Toby_ , though? When during the campaigns did you have time to place a bet with Toby?’

‘Um,’ she says, and watches as the cogs whir in his brain and then clunk into place.

‘You’re kidding!’ He pushes off the counter with both hands, backing away from her into the middle of the room. ‘This was happening before you left the White House?’

‘Quite a bit before I left the White House,’ she confesses. ‘Like… seven years before.’

She turns back to the stove and adds oregano to the ragù while Josh stomps about behind her and complains loudly about the lack of professionalism of all of his former and present colleagues.

‘So are family members okay?’ she asks him, when he pauses to take in oxygen.

‘No! I’m considering calling your sister and…’

She covers the pan over and turns to look at him, grinning. ‘Giving her a piece of your mind?’

He lifts his chin defiantly. ‘Yes, actually,’ he says. He grabs the phone and then puts it down again. ‘No. I’m not gonna do that.’

‘Good call,’ Donna agrees. 

‘It’s just, you know, it’s late and it would be rude.’

‘Of course,’ she says, with a sympathetic nod. ‘9pm is very late.’

‘She has small children!’

‘You’re not scared of her.’

He scowls. ‘You know who I will call, right now? Whoever started this whole thing in the first place.’

Donna has half a mind to go and guard the phone. ‘No. I can’t let you do that.’

‘There had to be a first bet, right?’ he reasons, pacing the floor. ‘An inciting moment that led everyone else to think our hypothetical love life was a rich source of entertainment? I wanna talk to whoever made that bet.’

‘Yeah, but I’m not gonna tell you who it was.’

He stops mid-stride, thrown by this unexpected obstacle. ‘You have to,’ he says, after a moment.

‘I don’t.’

‘Donna!’

She sighs, folding her arms and looking heavenward. ‘Okay, but you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow.’

‘Why?’

‘Because President Bartlet’s in France right now, and it’s 3am there.’

Josh is quiet for a moment. She turns the heat down under the pan.

‘President Bartlet?’ he repeats.

‘Yes.’

‘ _President_ Bartlet?’

‘The one and only.’

‘Well. Okay.’ Josh rubs his palm across his forehead a couple of times and goes back to pacing the same four feet of floor. ‘I probably can’t yell at him.’

‘I think that would be ill-advised, yes.’

‘The man was running a country! What the hell was he doing placing bets on—and by the way,’ he adds, whirling to face her, gesturing widely and almost taking out letters D through L of the spice rack she’d painstakingly organized when she moved in, ‘ _nothing_ was happening between us back then! Why would he even think to be betting on when we’d get together?’

‘Hey, sugar pie?’ Donna reaches out and wraps her hand around his wrist, tugging him back to her and resting her hands on his chest. ‘You know what it’s probably okay for us to admit now that we live together? You and I were never very subtle.’

He frowns, brow furrowing, thinking about it. ‘We were subtle,’ he says eventually. ‘We were subtle enough.’

‘No. Everybody knew.’

‘Not everybody.’

‘Everybody knew,’ she repeats. ‘Josh, I get that this is a weird thing to find out about, but it was harmless. They didn’t mean anything bad by it. They were rooting for us.’

‘Well. I suppose that’s something.’ He looks at her. ‘You knew about this?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she says.

‘No, I just—it sounds like you’re losing quite a bit of money. You didn’t want to work the system?’

She gives him a sweet, slow smile.

‘What?’ he asks, smiling too.

‘I wanted _you_ ,’ she says. ‘I’m, you know.’ She pulls a face at the cheesiness of the words and then says them anyway. ‘I’m the real winner, here.’

‘Well, now I can’t possibly be mad at you,’ he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is welcome and appreciated!


End file.
